


Light 'Em Up, Up, Up

by waitingforjudas



Series: Judas' Kinktober 2019 [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Shift, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Knotting, M/M, Sex Pollen, Xenophilia, distracted sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingforjudas/pseuds/waitingforjudas
Summary: “I don’t know what the hell those flowers are. It’s not safe.”“Then why,” Stiles said, and Derek tensed up at the slow drawl he was using, like Derek was a complete idiot, “are you standing in them barefoot?”Written for Kinktober 2019 prompts: Sex Pollen, Distracted Sex, and Xenophilia.





	Light 'Em Up, Up, Up

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for Kinktober 2019. Prompt list can be found at https://twitter.com/NihilistShiro/status/1162794889970511872._
> 
> Update 1/1/20: Typo correction.

Derek shook out his arms and glanced at Erica, who was staring at… something. “Erica.”

She looked up. “Derek, you’ve _got_ to see this.”

Derek frowned. “What?”

“These weird flowers.”

They were in the Preserve. There weren’t supposed to be any weird plants here, much less weird _flowers_. That sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. 

Stiles was jogging over, and Derek didn’t even think about what he was doing—he just sprinted forward, skidding to a stop a few feet in front of Erica. “Stiles, don’t come any closer.”

Stiles froze. “Why… not?” 

“I don’t know what the hell those flowers are. It’s not safe.”

“Then why,” Stiles said, and Derek tensed up at the slow drawl he was using, like Derek was a complete idiot, “are you _standing in them barefoot_?”

Derek blinked. And looked down at his feet. 

“I think we have a problem,” he said carefully, stepping out of them. His feet were covered in yellow pollen. 

“Scott, get some water for Derek to rinse that off with,” Stiles said, somehow calm during this whole mess. 

Derek stared at his feet. “This isn’t good.”

“No, no, I got that.” Stiles swallowed heavily—Derek could see his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Erica, I need you to step back. Twenty feet. Take off your outer layer. Shoes first, then pants. Got it?”

Erica didn’t even make a joke about Stiles trying to get her naked, and then Derek’s heart sank. Stiles was the smartest one here—and he was nervous. 

“Here.” Scott was twenty feet or so away from Stiles, and further still from Derek. “Can I get close or—”

“I’ll do it,” Stiles said. “It might affect wolves more than humans. I’m pretty sure it does, actually.”

Derek felt shaky. Like he was trembling all over, but it was still tiny enough movements that it wasn’t visible. 

“Derek,” Stiles called. “I’m gonna come over there now. Okay? Tell me if something changes.”

“Okay.” He felt hollow. 

No, hollow wasn’t quite the right word, though. 

“Here.” Stiles reached out and offered him the bucket of water. “Do you want me to do it instead?”

Derek shook his head. “I can do it.”

He took the bucket, braced himself, and poured most of it into the ground next to his feet. 

He felt like crying. 

But—_why?_ This was so inconsequential it was laughable how cautious they were being. 

Honestly, had it been anyone but Stiles acting like this, Derek wouldn’t have been even slightly as concerned as he was. 

“Okay, Derek.” Stiles’ voice felt far away. “I need you to stay with me. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are going to go to your house and shower. Scott’ll take his car to Deaton’s and you’re going to come with me in the Jeep. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Derek said. Tried to say. 

He gave a thumbs-up. 

“Okay. I’m pretty sure I know what those flowers are, so I’m gonna walk you to the car. Put your arm around my shoulder. Good. Okay, let’s go. You’re gonna be fine, Derek, I promise.”

It didn’t feel like he would be fine, but he let Stiles walk him to the Jeep anyway. Stiles knew better than he did, at least about this. 

Probably about more. Probably about everything. 

“That’s sweet,” Stiles said, “but the only reason I know about this is because I went into an internet rabbit hole. You’re not expected to know everything, Der.”

Derek leaned on Stiles. His muscles ached. 

He still felt… hollow wasn’t the right word at all, but it felt close. 

It just wasn’t _right_. 

Then again, none of this really was. 

Derek groaned as Stiles pushed him into the passenger seat and apologized as he buckled him in. “Look, I’m sure Deaton’ll say it’s nothing, but—”

“We wouldn’t be going unless you thought it was something, Stiles.”

Stiles hesitated, then nodded. “Admittedly, that’s—yeah. Yeah, I think there’s something going on, and I think it might be dangerous. Really dangerous. So, believe me when I say this—I’m sorry. But if it’s what I think it is, you’re going to be glad I dragged you out there.”

Derek nodded to himself as Stiles closed the door and came around the side of the Jeep. “Yeah,” he said once Stiles was in the car. “I will be.”

Stiles reached over and squeezed his shoulder, smiling kindly—worriedly, too. “You’re going to be okay. No matter what, Derek, I’m here for you.”

The ride to Deaton’s clinic was quiet and interspersed with muffled groans from Derek. He kept choking them back, but that feeling of hollowness was growing. Almost to where he felt… _empty_. As insane as it sounded. 

“You’re okay,” Stiles said as he pulled into Deaton’s parking lot where Scott was waiting by his car. “You’re going to be okay, Derek. Promise me you won’t freak out, no matter what Deaton says.”

Derek snorted and shook his head. “Sorry.”

And he was, actually. 

He felt strange. 

“I know.” Stiles turned off his Jeep, waved at Scott and shooed at him, and then opened Derek’s door. 

Derek’s hands wouldn’t cooperate with him and he tried, twice, to unbuckle himself. 

“Would you mind if I did that?”

Stiles didn’t look even slightly pitying. 

Derek shrugged. “Have at it.”

Stiles smiled at him kindly and then unbuckled him easily and helped him out of the rest of the seatbelt. “I’ll help you in. Tell me if you get lightheaded or dizzy, all right?”

Derek nodded and cling to Stiles as they got out of the car. 

Yeah. He definitely felt empty. 

He just didn’t know where the emptiness was or how he was supposed to fix it. 

They walked into the clinic where Scott was in a full hazmat suit. 

Derek did a double take. “What the fuck?”

“Okay,” Stiles said. “So we’re thinking I’m right, then.”

Deaton nodded solemnly. His expression was always unreadable, but now it was even more so thanks to the surgical mask he was wearing. “Interaction with other werewolves is… not exactly _advised_ at the moment.”

Derek tried not to panic. 

“Let’s get you examined before we panic, Derek.”

He nodded. 

Stiles squeezed his side slightly and smiled at him again when he glanced over. “It’ll be fine.”

His heart skipped that time. 

###

“Well, it seems Stiles was right,” Deaton said a few minutes later. “Derek will be fine assuming that he has sex with a human within the next—how long ago was the exposure?”

Stiles checked his phone. “About an hour.” 

“Within the next thirty minutes, then. To be safe. Derek, I assume you understand the… ah… particular sexual act that will be required?”

Derek shook his head. “Penetration?”

Deaton nodded. He looked uncomfortable. “To be clear, you will need to be penetrated.”

Derek blinked. 

“A human has to fuck you within thirty minutes,” Scott said, shifting in his hazmat suit. “Do you want me to find a hookup?”

Derek’s wolf snarled and he bit it down, keeping his eyes from flashing like they nearly had. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, and Derek tried not to tense up. “I told you that you’d be fine.”

“Don’t think so anymore?” Derek gritted out. His stomach was clenching and tightening amongst—other parts. 

“I know you’ll be fine. Okay? I’m great with search engines, and I’m sure I can find somebody who’ll be great for you, so—“

_matematematematenonono_

Derek roared, eyes going red, claws lengthening, fangs dropping, shifting into his beta form without thinking—like a sneeze that he couldn’t reverse. 

He couldn’t shift back. 

He looked to Deaton, panicked. “I—I can’t shift back.”

Deaton winced. “I was concerned that might happen at some point.”

“How— How am I supposed to find somebody to—” Derek gasped, grabbing at his chest. “How’m I— _Shit_—”

“Hey—hey, Derek, you’re okay. Scott, you can head out.” Stiles leaned down next to him. “Hey. Look at me, Der. Breathe, okay? In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four.”

Derek shook his head. “I can’t— I can’t fuck somebody like this!”

“Technically,” Stiles said, “they’d be fucking you.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Deaton, is there any way—“

“That he could shift back?” 

Stiles sighed. Deaton must’ve shaken his head. 

All Derek could focus on was Stiles. 

“Okay,” Stiles said. “New plan. I’m gonna have sex with you and you can hate me for the rest of your life, but that’s just going to be how it is. Deaton, would you mind—“

“If his body starts reacting to the poison faster, it might be safer if I’m within the vicinity,” Deaton said, sounding so nauseated that Derek almost laughed. “Wearing earplugs and doing paperwork.” 

Stiles huffed, but he nodded. “Okay. Okay, yeah, just—earplugs. _Always_.”

Deaton chuckled as he headed to the door. “I have no objections.”

The door closed behind him and Stiles turned back to Derek. “You feeling okay?” 

“Great.”

“Derek.”

“What?”

Stiles shrugged, sitting down and crossing his legs. He glanced back at Derek. “Look, this is— I’m sorry about this. I know that this isn’t what you wanted, but we’ll get through this. Okay?” 

Derek blinked at him. 

“Okay, so— Have you ever had any kind of penetrative sex? Or penetrated yourself before? It’s fine either way.” 

“A couple times.” 

“Did you enjoy it? Was it painful? How can I make it more tolerable for you?”

Derek tried not to laugh. “It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it wasn’t enjoyable.” 

“Okay. Okay, yeah, totally. Definitely. Understood.” 

Stiles was obviously thinking, and Derek stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak. A moment later, he did. 

“Okay, so here’s the plan. I’m going to rim you for a few minutes, then I’m going to finger you open, and then I’ll fuck you. I’ll come as quickly as I can, okay?”

Derek couldn’t hold back the snort. “Really? That’s your way of saying ‘I can’t last’?”

Stiles swatted at him playfully. “That’s my way of saying that I’m going to focus on prepping you instead of pleasuring myself.”

He couldn’t hold back the hitch in his breath at that. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_. Floor or table?”

“I’m not having sex on a veterinary exam table.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Stiles stood and grabbed packets of medical lubricant out of a drawer. “Floor it—“

“How did you know that was there?” 

Stiles blinked. “Scott works here. I’ve been here before. I thought you knew that.”

“You’ve had sex here before?” Another cramp wracked his body, and he groaned, tucking himself into a ball, trying to ease the pressure or at least adjust his position in case it made any difference at all. 

It didn’t.

“I definitely haven’t. Is it okay if I take off your pants?”

“It’s kind of required, Stiles.”

He could hear the eye roll. “I want you to still have some autonomy here.”

“There is no _possible_ autonomy. I’ll die unless somebody has sex with me. There’s not a choice.”

Stiles stopped halfway through unzipping his jeans. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to die,” he said quietly, “so just get it over with.”

He didn’t really— Not that— Well, he’d just pictured his first time with Stiles before, and it had never been even a little like this. 

Not even a bit. 

Stiles slid his pants halfway down his thighs and pulled his boxer briefs down a moment later, only hesitating for a beat. 

“I won’t hold anything against you,” Derek mumbled into his fist. 

“I know you won’t.” It sounded so devastated, so _gutted_, that Derek started to turn to try to fix whatever this was that he’d done to Stiles, but Stiles’ hands were on his ass less than a heartbeat later, spreading him wide, and then his tongue was on Derek’s hole. 

Derek shuddered, biting back a moan. He glanced at the clock. 

Twenty-six minutes. It was enough time. 

Stiles lapped at him, slow and long, until he could feel his hole relaxing almost independently from the rest of him. The moment that Stiles apparently deemed it loose enough, he wiggled his tongue inside of him. 

Derek shouted, startled. 

Stiles jerked back. “Hey— Shit, do you want to— We can—“

“Keep going,” Derek whispered, face burning. 

“Oh,” Stiles said, like he was having a revelation, but then his tongue was back inside of Derek and he couldn’t think. Everything was just _Stiles_—that gaping emptiness starting to feel the tiniest bit filled, his scent thick in the room, heavy in Derek’s lungs. 

Stiles’ mouth sealed around Derek’s hole and he _sucked_, tongue flicking, and Derek keened, rocking back as he dug his claws into his own stomach. 

Something firmer, slicker, prodded at his perineum and Derek realized, very belatedly, that it was one of Stiles’ fingers, trying to get him used to the sensation. 

Derek blinked blearily at the clock. 

Eighteen minutes. 

Stiles really must be planning on coming quickly. 

Derek felt drunk. He felt drunk and high or—or whatever drugged-out, dizzy feeling it was that humans got. Even wolfsbane alcohol had never done anything like this to him—even magic. 

Stiles slipped his tongue and mouth off of Derek’s hole and replaced it with his finger, slowly circling the ring of muscle. “Let me know when you’re okay to keep going.”

“Do it,” Derek said, canting his hips back. 

Stiles’ fingertip slipped in and Derek moaned. 

“More,” Derek gasped, “more, Stiles.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ve got you.”

Sixteen minutes. 

Stiles pressed a second finger, just as slippery, inside of him, and Derek groaned, some of the tension in his body finally ebbing away. “Thank you,” he mumbled, clenching around Stiles’ fingers. 

Stiles gasped, a tiny little intake of breath, as he did so, and his rhythm faltered. “Do that again.”

“What?”

“Squeeze me. Do it again.”

He did, and Stiles moaned. “Beautiful, Der.” 

Derek flushed with pleasure. He wasn’t delusional enough to believe that that was true, but it felt nice, pretending for just a moment. 

Stiles kept working him open and Derek opened his eyes again when he felt Stiles’ thumb press against his ass and no other fingers. 

“How many—“

“Four. Fingers, that is. Um. Seven minutes.”

Derek swallowed hard. This would be over in just a few minutes, and then Stiles would never look at him again. 

Ever. 

“Do you want to do this on your back, on your side, on your stomach, your knees—“

Derek took a slow, deep breath. “Like this? You won’t have to look at me then. Make it easier to come.” He dug his claws into his own abdomen again, trying to distract himself from the mortification he felt even mentioning it. 

Stiles’ fingers stopped. “Why would that make a difference?”

Derek snorted to himself. “I look like a monster, Stiles. People generally don’t want to have sex with monsters.” 

Stiles suddenly curved his fingers into Derek’s prostate, _hard_, and Derek let out a yelp that turned into a moan halfway through. “Don’t ever,” Stiles snarled, “call yourself a monster again.”

Derek frowned. “I don’t—“

“_Ever_, Derek. You’re fucking amazing _as you are_. You’re never a monster. Shifted or not, you’re _not a fucking monster_.”

Five minutes. 

Four. 

“Just fuck me,” Derek said, and Stiles huffed. 

“Idiot,” Stiles muttered, pulling his fingers out. 

Derek bristled. “I’m not a fucking idiot because I have basic self-awareness.”

Stiles grabbed his shoulder and rolled him to his back. “Are you _shitting me_? You think calling yourself a monster counts as knowing yourself? You’re a _fucking idiot_, Derek, but that shouldn’t really surprise me _half_ as much as it does, should it?” He jacked his cock once, twice, and pressed it against Derek’s gaping hole. “No, it shouldn’t. It _really_— Fuck. Oh, fuck, you’re—” Stiles stopped halfway into Derek’s hole. “You’re really tight. Shit. Goddammit.” 

Derek huffed, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I’m a fucking idiot, my hole’s tight, great dirty talk.”

Stiles growled, and Derek’s eyes flew open. He sounded _exactly_ like a wolf. 

And his eyes were flashing red. 

“Stiles,” he began slowly. 

Stiles let out a vicious snarl, and then he was beta shifted. “No, you _fucking idiot_,” he bit out, “I should know better than to think you have _any_,” his hips snapped forward, “self-esteem to speak of.”

Derek felt himself breaking. 

Two minutes left on the clock. 

Stiles kept fucking him—hard, fast, then grinding into him slow and dirty, but he wasn’t coming. 

One minute. 

Forty seconds. 

Thirty. 

Twenty. 

“Well,” Derek said, “since it looks like I’m about to be dead anyway, I might as well tell you.” 

Ten. 

“What?” Stiles frowned down at him. 

He took a deep breath. “I’m in love with you.”

Four. 

Three. 

Stiles let out a broken moan and then a knot—_Stiles’ knot_—was swelling up inside of him, so fast that Derek could barely think; couldn’t think anything other than _how the fuck?_

Stiles locked him on zero, and then he came, falling forward onto Derek’s chest, groaning and shaking as he filled him with burst after burst of come. 

His hips jerked forward and then Derek was coming, too, tumbling over the edge and grabbing onto Stiles, praying his claws didn’t cut Stiles too badly—but it wasn’t possible to prevent himself. He had to hold on to _something_, and Stiles was there. 

Stiles was there, like always. 

But….

But he wouldn’t be. Not after this. 

Derek swallowed, shivering through the last remnants of his orgasm. 

He let go of Stiles shakily. “Sorry,” he said. His throat was hoarse. 

Stiles tapped his cheek lightly. “Derek.” 

Derek opened his eyes. Stiles looked beautiful, even beta shifted. Not like Derek. Stiles never looked like a monster. “Stiles.” 

Stiles _wasn’t_ a monster. And maybe that was the only real difference between the two of them. 

“What you said….”

Derek flushed and waited for the inevitable, “I can’t ever be around you again.” Or maybe, “I don’t feel the same.” Or, if Stiles was blunt, “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

Stiles rubbed his thumb against Derek’s jaw. “I love you, too.”

He blinked. “Wait, what?” 

“Did you—not mean it? ‘Cause, I mean, that’s cool, too. No worries about it, believe me, I can leave the country, no problem, but—“

Derek kissed him. 

Stiles pulled away a few moments later. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna need verbal confirmation.”

Derek stared at him and nodded in disbelief. “Yeah. Yeah, Stiles, I’m in love with you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m in love with you, too. Just to be clear. Because unlike _some_ people, I actually—“

Derek kissed him again, trying not to laugh too hard and clench around Stiles’ knot. 

He failed in that, but the look on Stiles’ face made things pretty clear—he hadn’t failed the important parts.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving kudos or a comment. 
> 
> _This work was inspired by @NihilistShiro's Kinktober prompt list, available here: https://twitter.com/NihilistShiro/status/1162794889970511872 _


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